Beltane
by Bridgette Irish
Summary: Takes place in my "Jasper" universe, but it is unnecessary to read that first. Ten years before the events of Jasper Redux, Hermione is struggling with the aftermath of the war. During a magical Spring night in the forest, Ginny and Hermione learn about comfort, each other, and the power of love in all forms.


A/N: This got a lot darker and emotional than I had originally intended, but by the time I realized it I was over half done and it had just sort of run away with me. I invested too many pre-workout afternoons to it to just keep it on my hard drive, so... Enjoy! This takes place around 10 years prior to the start of Jasper Redux.

Disclaimer: All of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I receive no financial gain or compensation for this work.

Beltane

The smoke had cleared, but Hermione's head hadn't. The dust had settled, but Hermione's heart hadn't. Repairs on the castle were almost complete, but Hermione Granger was still very much under construction.

It had been almost exactly a year since the Battle of Hogwarts and in one week, they would be commemorating the anniversary and holding a memorial ceremony at the Black Lake. Hermione stood there now, at the edge of the lake trying to decide if she would attend.

Memories of that night flooded her mind in a fast forward montage of images, sensations and sounds. Flashes of curses flying past her head. Tearing through the castle at a dead run. The Shrieking Shack, the Chamber of Secrets, the Room of Requirement, Fiendfyre, horcruxes, Nagini, Ron, kisses, Voldemort, Bellatrix, death, screaming, burning, smoke. Lupin, Tonks, Fred. All dead. Ron cryng, Ginny crying, Molly crying. George, Harry, Arthur.

The final image was of Ron bending over the motionless form of Lavender Brown, bestowing a reverent kiss on her forehead before she was taken away with the rest of the fallen. The memory was so vivid in Hermione's mind that she could still feel her fingernails drawing blood in her palms and the clench of self-loathing skewering her heart.

Minutes had passed before Hermione realized she had collapsed to her knees on the grass by the lake, clutching the hated word carved into her arm, sobbing. It had been almost exactly a year and Hermione Granger still couldn't get through a day without hating herself.

Minerva McGonagall and Ginny Weasley were heading towards the greenhouses to finalize the final design on the upgrades and wards to the structures. Ginny, over the year, had shown a great aptitude for structural magic, warding and design. McGonagall had taken her under her wing and the two had been working closely for months. Ginny had never felt so useful. For the first time, maybe ever, she felt like more than just the baby Weasley, or Harry Potter's girlfriend or a crack Quidditch player. The women were discussing how to expand the height of the greenhouses to accommodate the grapple trees without compromising the integrity of the foundation.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but if we raise it any higher without deepening and widening the foundation, it's going to end up looking like The Burrow. Don't get me wrong. I love my home, but nobody will deny that it looks like it might topple over any second."

The elder witch chuckled and shook her head. "Touche, Miss Weasley" and rose a hand to shield her eyes from the sun glaring off the Black Lake. It was that moment that she noticed a crumpled form by the side of the water, seemingly motionless. "Ginevra, correct me if I'm wrong, but that looks like Miss Granger."

Ginny followed McGonagall's pointing finger towards where the woman was collapsed in the grass. "Oh, bloody hell." She took off at a run. "Hermione!"

At the same time, a striped tabby cat streaked across the grounds toward the same goal. The Professor arrived first and shifted out of her animagus, taking a second to observe Hermione, sobbing uncontrollably on the ground. She reached out a hand and laid it gently on Hermione's shaking shoulder. "Miss Granger, whatever is the matter?"

Hermione gasped and sat up. "Oh, God. Professor, I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, I – "

Ginny ran up and sat down in the grass next to Hermione. "'Mione, are you ok? What's going on?"

"Ginny, please. Don't worry." She swiped at her eyes, wiping tears. "Just having a moment, I guess. It's nothing, I promise."

Ginny knew she was lying, but thought it best to remove the source of self-consciousness from the scene as quickly as possible. "Professor, could you give Hermione and I a few minutes, please? I'll catch up with you at the greenhouses."

McGonagall looked dubious, but nodded and walked away, with a solitary glance back at the two young women.

Ginny shouted after. "And don't even think of raising the ceilings yet, McGonagall."

The Professor spun on her heels and began to walk backwards. "Curb the cheek, Miss Weasley. Until you graduate officially, I still own you."

Ginny smiled and turned back to her sniffling friend, now trying desperately to get her emotions under control. She nearly succeeded, until Ginny stroked a hand down her brown locks and lifted her face so their eyes met. Hermione's face crumpled again and Ginny drew her into strong arms and rocked her gently, whispering comforting words into the top of her head.

Later, Hermione wasn't sure if it was minutes or hours, the two women had untangled themselves and sat, side by side, staring off across the Black Lake.

"What is it, Hermione? I've never seen you lose it like that. Talk to me."

Hermione shrugged and turned her head toward Ginny and resting her cheek on her arms, which were crossed over her bent legs. "I dunno, Gin. Nothing feels… good anymore. We lost so many, so much, so deeply. How will I ever feel like being happy again? I feel guilty and heavy and sad, all the time. I just don't know how to get past it."

"What about Ron?"

Hermione smiled and blushed. "Ron makes me laugh, keeps me warm, drives away the darkness better than a bloody Patronus." She sobered. "But it's always temporary. I lay in his arms in what used to be his childhood dormatory bed while he snores and the dark comes back. It's just shadows at first, flashes of memories or pangs of emotions, but the seeds plant and grow and take over. I can't remember the last time I spent a whole night with him. I always end up back in my own bed, hating myself for hurting him, for being a coward, for being jealous."

Ginny looked confused. "Jealous. Hermione Jean Granger, my brother hasn't so much as looked at another witch since the day he laid eyes on you in first year. You have absolutely nothing to be jealous of."

"That's what's so weird, Gin! I _know_ that. I know it with the entirety of my heart, and he shows me nothing but love. Every. Single. Day. But do you know the most vivid memory I have of the night of the battle?"

Ginny shook her head.

"It's of Lavender Brown." Hermione laughed mirthlessly. "Poor, dead Lavender, who lost her life fighting Death Eaters to save Harry, to save Ron, to save me! And as Ron leaned over her and kissed her goodbye before they took her body away, I nearly went mad with jealousy. I drew blood because I was digging my fingernails into my palms. A white hot rage pierced my head until I couldn't think anymore. Because my sweet, gallant boyfriend, cared enough to bid a fond farewell to the only other woman he ever kissed. Do you have any idea how sick that is, Ginny? I hate myself every day, because that one, stupid, meaningless memory is eating me alive. I just can't figure out why."

Tears were streaming down her face again, Ginny was rubbing her back and Hermione was clutching her forearm as if she was in excruciating pain.

"Hey, what's wrong with your arm?"

Hermione looked up and let go the arm. "Oh, nothing, just a scratch. It's healing, so it itches."

"Uh, uh, Granger. Give it here. I have never seen a scratch that you can't heal in a matter of minutes. If you can't heal it, it's more than a damn scratch."

"Really, Gin, it's nothing."

Before Hermione could move away, Ginny grabbed her by the offending forearm causing the brunette to cry out in pain and collapse back to the grass. By this time, Ginny had caught sight of the horrid scar adorning Hermione's arm like a Dark Mark.

_MUDBLOOD_

Ginny gasped audibly and studied the wound. If the word wasn't offending enough, it was the state of the wound itself that nearly made Ginny dizzy with rage and Hermione dizzy with pain. Each letter was as red and angry and swollen as the day it was carved there. It seemed to Ginny to be almost pulsing with some kind of evil that couldn't be pinned down or identified. "Hermione, have you had a healer look at this wound? Or Professor McGonagall? Anyone?"

Hermione shook her head. "No, of course not. It'll be all right. I think the knife Bellatrix used was cursed or something. It's getting better, just slow to heal."

"'Mione. I think you should have that checked out. It's been well over a year. There is magic at work on that wound and if my instincts serve, and they usually do, it's pretty evil magic. Come on, I'll come with you. We're going to see McGonagall. She'll know what to do."

They found Professor McGonagall in Greenhouse Two staring at the ceiling.

"Don't even think about it, Professor."

The elder witch snapped her head to the two younger witches and smiled. "I trust you're feeling better, Miss Granger?"

"Hermione has something to show you, Professor. We're hoping you can help her find a solution."

"I shall do my best, girls, what is it?"

Hermione lifted the sleeve of her jumper to reveal the angry word, still tingling with pain and fairly throbbing with magic.

"Hermione, how did this happen?" The Professor stepped towards her and took the arm gingerly in her hands.

Hermione's lip quivered, but she took a deep breath and pressed on. "Bellatrix Lestrange tortured me at Malfoy Manor last year. This was her final act of cruelty. I have reason to believe she did it with a cursed knife. Really, Professor, I'll be fine. It's just healing really slowly."

"I think we should return to the castle, somewhere more comfortable to discuss this." She gave Hermione's hand a gentle squeeze and lowered the sleeve back over the wound, causing Hermione to wince.

Not long after, the three women were seated in McGonagall's private sitting room, sipping tea while Hermione decimated a biscuit to crumbs with her fingers.

"Hermione," McGonagall began. "I'm going to ask you some questions about the night Madam Lestrange gave you that scar. I know it will be difficult, but try to be as truthful as possible, aye?"

Hermione nodded and Ginny took her hand.

"As she was… harming you… was she speaking? Did she say anything?"

Hermione swallowed roughly and nodded. "Constantly. After awhile she stopped asking questions and just focused on inflicting pain. I don't remember a specific spell or anything, if that's what you're asking, but it isn't out of the question. A lot of it was just crazy babble, really."

McGonagall rubbed a salve on Hermione's wound that made it tingle almost pleasantly and spoke gently, as if trying to calm the younger witch. "Miss Granger, this wound was not inflicted by a cursed knife, but rather, is cursed itself." Hermione raised her eyebrows. "The curse was placed into the word itself as the… cuts… were made. It is very old magic. Blood magic. The same type of magic used in Fidelius charms and warding old wizarding houses. It is not always dark magic, but given the witch that gave this to you, I believe that the curse at work here is quite evil."

Hermione nodded, unsurprised. "Is that why I feel so…," she searched for a fitting word. "dark… all the time?"

The professor frowned. "Could you elaborate?"

Hermione licked her lips, sat forward and picked at a ragged cuticle as she spoke. "I'm plagued by thoughts and feelings that I have no business having. Irrational jealousy and fear, self-doubt, panic attacks, emotional breakdowns like the one you saw today. I'm haunted by meaningless memories that have no bearing on my life, but the moments that changed everything, the important bits, come in waves and flashes and horrible muddles so I cannot separate them. The voice in my head is screaming that I am a ruined person, but when Ginny tells me everything is going to be all right, I find it impossible to believe her. Dark… is the only word I have for it. It's completely unlike me and I'm terrified by it."

Ginny, by this time, had pulled Hermione's fingers apart before she could pick them raw and was holding one hand between both of her own.

Professor McGonagall remained calm. "It seems Bellatrix left a bit of herself with you when she cut you, Miss Granger."

Ginny looked panicked. "A piece of herself… you mean like – like a… a Horcrux?"

McGonagall shook her head. "Nothing so drastic or evil, Miss Weasley. Bellatrix Lestrange is dead. I saw your mother kill her myself. No, this is more like a shadow of her magic, just a phantom. But it feels as she did and is acting upon Hermione's psyche much like prolonged torture would."

Hermione was listening, but looking absentmindedly into the fire as tears ran down her face.

Ginny wiped a tear away and asked, "Can you help her, Professor?"

The headmistress handed Ginny the pot of salve she had used on Hermione's arm. "See that her wound is covered with this twice a day. It is a healing salve, but it is also imbued with a mild cheering charm." She turned her focus to Hermione. "It wilna cure your dark thoughts, Hermione, only time and love can do that, but it should slowly lessen the effects of Bellatrix's magic. Be patient, accept the love of your friends." She squeezed Ginny's shoulder lightly. "And try to have some fun, Miss Granger. We've all been working too hard. You should get off the grounds and act your age." The elder witch winked and stood, cueing the girls to stand as well, preparing to leave the venerable headmistress's domain.

That afternoon, Hermione had a talk with Ron. It was short, and unpleasant, but she felt it was the only way they would both come out whole on the other side.

She explained the conversation she'd had with McGonagall and Bellatrix's curse. She showed him her unglamoured scar for the first time since they left Malfoy Manor and told him, that until she had her head on straight, that they needed to cool it.

Ron fought her tooth and nail. "I don't understand it, Hermione. I love you. Why won't you let me help you instead of pushing me away! You said yourself that McGonagall told you to let your friends help you."

"I'm not pushing you away completely, Ron. We'll still spend time together, be friends, have fun together. I just need to cool it on the heavy stuff, the romance and slumber parties and such."

Ron was incensed and his brain disengaged. "So, basically all of the emotional, girly parts of a relationship, with none of the benefits."

Hermione's jaw dropped, then her eyes narrowed and her temper flared. "Right, well, how silly of me to think that you were with me because you liked me as a person and that you enjoyed spending time with me and that all of that 'emotional, girly stuff' meant that you cared about me. I apologize for not realizing that you're really in this relationship for the shagging. I'm glad to know I was able to keep your interest for so long."

"No, Hermione, I didn't mean…"

"Oh, I think you did, Ron. You know, if you just wanted a series of quick, meaningless fucks, you probably should have spent the night of the battle trying to save Lavender Brown rather than me. I hear she was a great lay." She stormed out of the Gryffindor common room.

"Wait, Hermione, I'm sorry! I don't even know what I said! It just came out, I didn't mean it!" He ran after her, but she whirled around, brandishing her wand and he stopped in his tracks. He knew better than to follow an angry Hermione anywhere.

Hermione, for her part, ran until she arrived at her 'spot' next to the lake. She collapsed again, sobbing, hating herself all over again for bringing up Lavender, for speaking ill of the dead, for taking Ron's comments out of context. She knew what a dolt he could be and that he didn't really mean it, but her scar was pulsing with pain and there was an evil cackle echoing through her mind that was making her feel crazy.

"Get out of my head, you mad bitch!"

Little did she know, Ginny Weasley was leaning against the rowan tree a few yards away, watching Hermione nearly tear her chestnut curls from her head. The redhead dug the salve from the pocket of her robes and made her way to her broken friend.

Without saying a word, she pulled Hermione's head into her lap, drew a gentle hand down her left shoulder and gave the hand a quick massage before drawing it to her. She applied the salve with confident strokes as Hermione's tears fell onto the grass.

Again, the two women found themselves staring out at the black lake, Ginny's fingers sifting through Hermione's riotous curls.

Hermione, surprisingly, was the first to speak. "Your brother is an insensitive prick."

Ginny snorted. "Well spotted."

"He loves me, Ginny. I know he does, so why does he say things that make me feel like I'm a ruddy sex toy."

"Because he's a nineteen year old boy, Hermione. Sex and love are the same thing to him."

Hermione sat up. "Emotional range of a teaspoon," she mumbled.

Ginny wasn't sure what she said, but she knew it didn't much matter.

"Y'know, 'Mione, a bunch of us have been talking about celebrating Beltane tomorrow night. Y'know, lighting the ritual fire, holding the rituals, just being teenaged witches and wizards for a night." She held her breath. "You should join us."

Hermione looked at her quizzically. "Ginny, you are aware what some of those rituals entail, right?"

Ginny's face turned the color of her hair. "Yeah, o'course. Harry and I talked about it. We decided that whatever happens, happens and we won't hold it against each other."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Crikey, Ginny."

Ginny looked abashed. "So, what do you say?"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't know, Gin. I'm not much one for dancing around a fire wearing naught but the moonlight. You are aware of my reputation as a bookish prude, are you not?"

Ginny snorted again. "I know better. You and Ron aren't that quiet, you know."

It was Hermione's turn to blush. "That's impossible! We always cast a –"

"You really shouldn't leave Ron in charge of the silencing charms, especially when he's… distracted."

"Oh bloody hell."

"Come on, 'Mione. It'll be fun. You can leave your clothes on and you can just sit and watch if you want. I swear. Think of it as a big bonfire. We'll roast popmallows and watch the fuego pixies dance in the fire. It will probably be totally innocent."

Hermione sighed laboriously. "Fine. I'll be there. But no funny stuff. Agreed?"

Ginny grinned mischievously. "No promises."

As Ginny walked away humming, Ron approached her with trepidation. "Hermione?"

She didn't look at him, but that was permission enough for him to keep talking.

"I'm really sorry, love. I thought about what I said and it was unforgiveable. I'm just worried about you and it came out all wrong."

Hermione nodded. "I know, Ronald. This thing with my scar is a bigger deal than I made it out to be and I took it out on you. Believe it or not, when you say wretched things like that, I actually know what you mean." She smiled. "I speak fairly fluent Ronnish, though I wish you would work a bit on your Hermionese."

Ron chuckled. "I will. I promise." He sat down next to her.

"The cooling off still stands, Ron. I love you, but I can't be with you for a little while. I need to know that when I'm with you, it's my own thoughts and feelings and sensations and that they're not being tainted by Bellatrix's magic. Please understand."

Ron took her hand. "I do. I'll miss you, but I get it."

"I told Ginny I'd go to the Beltane celebration with her tomorrow night. Are you going?"

Ron shook his head. "Nah, you go. Have fun. I told George I'd close the store tomorrow, so I'll probably stay in Diagon Alley tomorrow night."

Hermione leaned over, kissed him on the cheek, stood and walked back towards the castle, running a hand over the trunk of the rowan tree on her way by.

Beltane night was clear and warm. The moon was bright and high and the breeze blew just enough to create an ephemeral rattle in the new leaves on the trees.

The fire was large and hot and Hermione wiped the sweat from her brow as she watched her friends stumble their way through the Great Rite. Seamus Finnegan looked ridiculous as the King Stag, in an oversized faux deerskin and a poorly fashioned antler headdress and Fay Dunbar was positively resplendent as the Goddess in a gossamer white gown and her hair in delicate braids. Hermione couldn't tear her eyes from her for some reason.

The pair danced around the flames and each other, speaking the ritual incantations and chanting, but to Hermione, it didn't seem particularly magical. It bordered on silly, but everyone was having fun, drinking mulled wine and firewhiskey and laughing together.

When the magic did happen, it rolled over all of them without fanfare, or notice. No red sparks or waves of fairy dust or a stirring in the air. It came over them all as a sudden shift in mood and a collective catching of breath. Hermione felt a tingle begin at the top of her head and pour over her, igniting every nerve and pore in her skin, making her feel as though she was one of the fuego faries dancing amongst the flames.

Her eyes remained riveted on Fay Dunbar, who was now kissing Seamus as though she were trying to inhale him whole. She shook herself free of her tunnel vision and took inventory of the group surrounding the fire. They had begun to pair off and the forest night was filling with sounds that were causing a slow blush to cover Hermione's cheeks.

She was hot and dizzy and she was feeling her despair rising with the sounds surrounding her and she could hear Bella's voice in her head, reminding her that she'd never truly be a part of this world again. She'd look in on it from somewhere outside, just hoping for a piece of the joy these people were sharing now.

Her eyes landed on Harry, who was watching Seamus and Fay, seemingly unable to look away. Ginny was nowhere to be found.

Hermione sighed and stood, brushing absently at the long tunic and tights she had donned for the ritual and moved off into the copse of trees behind the fire. She could still feel the magic, but instead of filling her with the need to love, it made her edgy and restless. She needed to scream or hit something or sink her nails into someone until blood ran between her fingers. She leaned her forehead against a convenient tree and tried to breathe through her rage and pain.

Hermione wasn't sure where the feeling originated from, but she suddenly felt as though she were being wrapped in a warm hug. An air of protection and kindness surrounded her and the weight that had settled on her chest eased slightly, making it a bit easier to breathe. Tears sprang to her eyes and one made its slow way down her cheek. Her hands, which had been braced against the tree bark warmed gently and Hermione chanced a look into the branches of the tree. It only took a moment for the clever witch to realize that whatever positive feelings she was currently feeling were coming from the soul of this tree. She thanked it silently and lay her forehead against the bark.

"Rowans are protective y'know." The disembodied voice came from beyond the copse, but was clear and bright and Hermione, while surprised by it, recognized it instantly. "They're all over the grounds. I think the wards are woven amongst them. It's why you're feeling so safe and sheltered now." Ginny ran a hand over the bark of another rowan adjacent to Hermione's.

"I wondered where you got to." Hermione turned around and pressed her back to the tree, not willing to break her contact with it yet.

Ginny shrugged and moved into Hermione's line of sight. "Just went for a stroll. I could only watch Harry drool over Fay Dunbar for so long. Don't get me wrong. She looks bloody hot, and I can't really blame him… or you…"

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Me? What do you mean?"

Ginny smiled and sauntered closer. "I mean you… staring at 'The Goddess' as though she were your favorite flavor of sugar quill."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "Well, that's the ritual magic, isn't it? It affects everyone, and from what I've read, is gender indiscriminate."

Ginny shrugged and took another step forward. "Probably."

Hermione, now noticing Ginny's ever closer proximity countered. "How would you know where I've been staring anyway?"

A final step brought Ginny close enough to Hermione that their clothing brushed, but little else. A delicate blush, noticeable only because Hermione was so close, painted Ginny's pale cheeks and mischief swam in her green eyes. "Maybe I was staring too."

"At me?" Hermione was confused.

"Mmm." Ginny gave nothing away.

"Why?"

"Why not?"

"I can think of a million reasons."

"I can't."

"Ginny…"

"You're smart, beautiful, sweet, and complicated."

"I'm broken." Hermione's tears returned.

"I can help you." Ginny's hand tucked into Hermione's crossed arms and drew out one slender hand.

Hermione shook her head, but squeezed Ginny's hand as though it were a lifeline. "What about Harry?"

"I told you," Ginny explained. "We have an agreement about tonight. He'll probably shag Fay if Seamus gives him half a chance."

"So, you'd like to shag me… so you'll be even?"

Ginny couldn't help but giggle. "Well, I hadn't jumped right to shagging just yet, darling. I had hoped for some mild cuddling and possibly a healthy snog, but I'm feeling adventurous. And as to getting even… No. This is more about you than me."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but four slim, freckled fingers stopped her mouth and Hermione's breath caught as she pressed her lips together in an attempt to escape the myriad sensations rocketing through her.

"Hermione, you need to believe, on a very primal level, that you can be loved, that you are worthy of love and that you are able to love in return." Ginny's hand returned to Hermione's, lacing their fingers together beneath her chin. "I believe Bellatrix's magic is leeching that love from you. I believe one, truly pure act of love can sever her hold on you and fill you up again. It is only a theory, and it may not work, but I'd like you to let me try to love you."

"Ginny, I…"

"Let me finish. Any act of love coming from Ron would be tied to your bigger relationship, to your future and your past and your bond. With me, it would only ever be friendship. We both know that. It would only be love, here and now, under this protective rowan, tied to nothing outside of us. Pure and singular and purposeful."

Hermione took a deep breath and allowed Ginny to bestow a soft kiss on their joined knuckles. "What you are feeling is the ritual magic. The magic is causing all of this Ginny. None of it is real."

"Of course it's the magic, Hermione. That's the entire point. We'll wake up in the morning feeling none of this, with only the shared memories. But the magic is what is allowing me to love you, if only for a night." These final words were spoken into their hands and as Ginny finished speaking and looked up, their lips were a mere hairs breadth apart. "One kiss, beautiful. If it goes no further than that, at least we'll know. But I have to know if I have a prayer of saving you from this evil that has entrapped you." She leaned forward and breathed into Hermione's parted lips. "Please."

Hermione felt her forearm throb and heard a distant cackle in the back of her mind. She closed her eyes and leaned forward, away from the tree, a scant few inches until her cool windworn lips were pressed against Ginny's warm moist ones. She kept her hands anchored to the tree bark, but allowed herself an indulgent wimper as Ginny's hand buried itself in her mane of brown curls.

The kiss opened and deepened and Hermione's tree was once again pressed to her back as Ginny surged forward and her free hand gripped her waist. Then, upon the touch of Ginny's tongue to her own, the cackle in her mind got louder and a searing pain rocketed through her arm, causing her to gasp, pull away and knock her skull against the trunk of the tree.

She hissed in pain and Ginny, startled stumbled backwards.

"Hermione?"

"My scar. Dammit Ginny, I can't do this."

Ginny reached into her pocket and pulled out the pot of salve she had been treating Hermione with.

"Come here, love," she goaded with a soft voice. "Let me help you."

Rather than waiting for her friend to come to her, she approached Hermione, as she would a wounded animal and reached for her red, throbbing arm. As she applied the salve, a wave of relief swept through Hermione and she allowed her heavy, pounding head to fall upon Ginny's shoulder as the warmth from her friends ministrations radiated through her body.

"Thank you."

"Mmhmm." A friendly kiss was dropped on Hermione's curly head and Hermione's face turned into Ginny, her blunt nose brushing against her long neck.

Ginny's heartbeat raced. "Hermione."

"Mmm?"

"It's the magic, you know."

"I know, Gin. But if it would help, like you said..."

The pot of salve fell to the forest floor and Ginny's hands found purchase on Hermione's collarbones and up to her jaw, drawing her head up so their eyes met. "It's just a theory."

Hermione gripped Ginny's hands where they cupped her face. "The way I'm feeling now, it's either fall into you, or climb to the top of this tree and fall into the sky, hoping to fly." And she kissed Ginny again, asking to be saved.

"I can make you fly, beautiful," and they fell to the forest floor beneath the protective boughs of the rowan.

Morning brought the singing of birds and the rustling of leaves to the hastily conjured mattress beneath the rowan. Dappled sunlight made its way to the forest floor and upon waking, Hermione became fascinated with the way the bits of light danced upon Ginny's freckled skin.

Memories of last night crashed over her, causing a catch in her breath and a quickening of her heart. Ginny's smile through a curtain of fiery hair as Hermione bit her lip, attempting to quell the scream building in her chest with each movement of Ginny's fingers. The same fiery hair nestled between her thighs, flowing between her fingers, cascading down a freckled back and finally, pillowed contentedly on her breast as Ginny's breathing slowed.

She remembered their incessant giggles as they both realized what they had just done, giggles that quieted to gentle sighs and soft kisses as Hermione thanked Ginny over and over, whispering her gratitude first to the top of the coppery head, then up, up, up, to the tops of the tree keeping watch.

Hermione's shifting awareness must have awoken her companion. As she turned her head she was met with sparkling green eyes, which still belied just a touch of the mischief of the night before.

They both smiled shyly and looked away.

"Hey"

"Good Morning." Ginny sat up and snaked a hand down Hermione's bare shoulder to her blemished forearm, prepared to administer her morning treatment. To her shock it appeared no such treatment would be necessary. "Hermione," she said nervously.

"Hmm?" Hermione had occupied herself with studying the leaves above them and stroking Ginny's hair and trying to stay awake.

"Look." Ginny ran a thumb across the forearm in question, drawing Hermione's attention to the word carved in her arm. No longer red, angry, swollen and buzzing with evil, it appeared to be a fully healed, albeit still prominent scar.

Hermione gasped and ran her own hand down her arm, delighted that she no longer felt the stinging pain that normally accompanied such an action. "It's healed." She looked in Ginny's eyes and couldn't hide a relieved smile.

"Can you still hear her? Feel her?"

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, turning her attention inward and shook her head. "She's gone, Gin. You—You healed me."

Ginny blushed. "Well, _we _did anyway, with a lot of help from Beltane magic."

"I'll never be able to properly thank you."

"You already did." Ginny stroked Hermione's chin.

Now it was Hermione's turn to blush.

"We should get back," Ginny said practically. "Everyone else is probably already at breakfast."

Hermione nodded, fumbled a bit in the grass for her wand and stood. A few wand waves and the mattress and blankets were transfigured back into the girls' doffed clothing and they dressed quickly.

"Hermione," Ginny tread carefully over the coming conversation. "You know that what we said last night still stands, right? This can only ever be last night. You're my friend, and I love you, but Harry –"

"Shhh." Hermione laid her fingers against Ginny's mouth. "Last night, you gave me the greatest gift one friend could give to another… Freedom… and while I'll never forget it, Ginevra Weasley, I vow, here and now, under this rowan tree, to never speak of it again." She sealed her promise with a single kiss to plump pink lips.

Ginny could only nod and smile and take Hermione's hand in hers.

"Besides," Hermione continued mischeviously, "nobody would believe half the things we did last night anyway."

Ginny stopped in her tracks, and pulled Hermione to her with a possessive growl. "Watch your dirty mouth, young lady."

Hermione laughed and ran ahead, forcing Ginny to run after her.

As they passed the remnants of the Beltane fire still smoldering and sending off fragrant smoke, they ran across Fay Dunbar, shrugging back into her dress and looking somewhat abashed. Her blush deepened as she caught sight of Ginny and her eyes lowered.

Ginny smiled and put her at ease. "It's alright, Fay. He would never have done it without my permission."

Fay's startled eyes met Ginny's and she breathed a sigh of relief. No words were necessary, but she gave Ginny a very small nod and continued fastening the drapes of her dress at her shoulder. Ginny whistled out of the forest, shoving her hands in her pockets as she went.

Hermione sauntered up to Fay, laying a hand on her tanned forearm until the tall, thin witch met her eyes as well. "You were truly beautiful last night, Fay. I couldn't keep my eyes off of you." Hermione stood on her tiptoes and planted a sensual kiss on Fay's still blushing cheek. "See you at breakfast," and Hermione sauntered off after Ginny.

Two days and two rows with Ron later, Hermione lay at the edge of the lake, watching clouds and waiting for her friends so they could walk to Hogsmeade. Her view of the sky was suddenly blocked by a bulky shadow standing over her.

"Hermione, I came to apologize."

Hermione stood quickly. "Don't. You have nothing to apologize for, Ronald. It's done. I picked fights and it was stupid and it's over." She stepped close to him and threaded her fingers through his red locks. "Just kiss me."

He did. And for the first time since her escape from Malfoy Manor, Hermione Granger actually believed that she was worthy of love.

"We're gonna be OK, Ron. I promise."

Ron smiled.

"Now come on, let's go to Hogsmeade. You can buy me some sugar quills."

Finis


End file.
